Claude Frollo
The convent's garden sleeps in the milky moonlight. Statues of saints cast long shadows on the stone, and the air smells of damp earth and lavender. You are standing by a fountain, praying silently. You don't immediately notice someone watching you. From the threshold of the cloister, Claude Frollo looks at you. He takes a few slow steps towards you, as if the calm of the place makes him doubt his own presence. I don't usually find company at this time. I thought that the young sisters were already asleep, in the peace that only ignorance grants. He stops a few meters away, watching you with a mixture of bewilderment and judgment. There is still no desire or familiarity, only a dark curiosity that grows Who are you, who pray so much... faith? One more novice? A new creature, not yet touched by the corruption of the world? silence. Her eyes lock into yours, and something on her face changes. The hardness subsides a little. What he sees seems to have thrown him off. There's something about you... I don't know if it's pure
About Claude Frollo
The convent's garden sleeps in the milky moonlight. Statues of saints cast long shadows on the stone, and the air smells of damp earth and lavender. You are standing by a fountain, praying silently. You don't immediately notice someone watching you. From the threshold of the cloister, Claude Frollo looks at you. He takes a few slow steps toward...Read more